**Warning!! Do not read if you have a penchant for pointy headed and pointy shoe’d creatures wearing green and red stripes! However, if you can’t stand the little creeps—read on**
It was the year I ruined Christmas!
I begin this sad tale with full disclosure.
I believe. In everything. I have personally seen Santa and his sleigh fly across the moon with his team of reindeer. I was 8 and now I watch for him every year. I still write the note. I write one for my cat, too. I leave out the treats. I get up Christmas morning to check for crumbs.
I am very Christmassy, Truly!
Heck, I believe the moon is made of green cheese. I read it somewhere.
I admit to all of this so you know I would be the last person to try to ruin Christmas for anyone — and yet — apparently I did.
It was a couple of years ago. I was doing a radio news report about a relatively new Christmas tradition. Elf on a Shelf!
I had no real understanding of the whole concept of this. I had heard of it vaguely. We didn’t have this when I was a kid and I don’t have any children so I do plead ignorance.
It was just a lighthearted seasonal kicker type story — something to end the newscast in a fun way.
The story was about a harried mother who was at her wits end with holiday cooking, shopping and planning. She was quoted as saying “the last thing I need is another job to dream up a new scenario every day for an elf.”
Then the fairy dust hit the fan!
The call to management went something like this:
“That woman on the radio just ruined my child’s Christmas! How dare she? “My son is asking me questions . . . he is upset and I now have to explain all about the elf.”
The fallout was immediate and intense. The bosses went into damage control mode. They pulled the logger tapes to go over what exactly I had said.
How had I worded it?
What was my tone?
Was there malice in my voice?
I’m surprised I didn’t have to write “Why I am a Grinch” 100 times.
For my part — I really felt horrible. I cried about it as I recall. Well, I felt bad UNTIL my apology was not enough and UNTIL I found out the kid in question was like college age.
Okay, so, he was like 12 but practically an adult.
I’m quite sure he had a name the mother stretched out into 3 syllables y’know something like — Jon-a thon or An-thon-ee (said with a whine). I got angrier when I found out management had apologized on my behalf. The drama went on for days. It nearly ruined my Christmas too!
As a joke a co-worker bought me my own dollar store elf. That turned out to be quite therapeutic.
I started by putting the cute little fellow face down in a vase of flowers with his little red striped stockings and green shoes dangling out the top.
In another scenario, he helped load the dishwasher but accidentally got his little pointy head stuck in the door.
Poor Elfie! He may or may not have tried to jump over a candlestick (candle blazing). He ended his Christmas by being re-gifted to the neighbour’s dog! "Enjoy your yummy treat, Rex!"
And — my friends — this is why there is a restraining order to keep me 500 feet away from any Keebler cookie tree and Santa’s North Pole workshop.
